


Says You

by paperbackwriterfromnowhere



Category: The Beatles
Genre: M/M, Rough Oral Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-25
Updated: 2017-01-25
Packaged: 2018-09-19 22:02:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,829
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9462032
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/paperbackwriterfromnowhere/pseuds/paperbackwriterfromnowhere
Summary: George is feeling a bit out of control, so he seeks the one person who lets him have full control always; Ringo.





	

George is a little miffed when Ringo shows up late, but the smile on the drummer’s lips has a smile sketching its way onto George’s face in no time. He’s a weakness, Ringo is. George stands up, walking over to the older man and lets his fingers run over the shorter’s tie before he wraps thin fingers around it, pulling him close. Their lips are _almost_ touching and he lets his breath linger for a few moments before nipping at Ringo’s bottom lip (he can’t help himself).

“Yer late,” he says flatly.

“I know, ‘m sorry, George I--”

George interrupts, “I don’t wanna know. Get yer clothes off an’ mine, too.”

George has come a long way from the rather shy bloke he was when they started this-- when it was new and he had no idea what to do. Now that he knows, he takes control because Ringo lets him. Because Ringo knows George needs this. He’s got no control over anything-- his music, choices about his career, he’s got nothing. Nothing but this. Nothing but Ringo.

Here, he’s got free reign to do anything he fucking wants to. Sometimes he’s soft and gentle with Ringo; other times, he treats him like some slag he doesn’t give a single fuck about. Tonight’s probably a mix of both. Ringo can tell just by the look that was on George’s face when he came into the room that he's going to be in for it someway, somehow tonight. Once he's got both their clothes off, Ringo looks to George for instruction. The younger says nothing, he simply grabs Ringo by the hair and pushes him down to meet his cock as he strokes it slowly. “Go on, then. You know what to do, don’t you?”

Ringo nods a little, his hand replacing George’s as he strokes his dick slowly, his tongue licking the underside from base to tip and back to base again. He presses his nose there where his balls and cock meet, nuzzling briefly before he gently sucks at his balls, his hand still stroking. He doesn’t waste much time, though, knowing George gets demanding when he gets like this. Bright blue eyes look up as Ringo takes George’s entire length into his mouth, letting the velvety skin slide over his tongue as it draws a moan from both of them. George loves to watch Ringo suck his dick almost as much as he likes to suck Ringo’s if he’s honest with himself. There’s something about the way those big, blue eyes look up at him like he’s the bloody King of England that just drives the younger man completely mad.

George’s fingers slip into the older man’s hair, both hands holding him down as Ringo’s nose bumps his belly and he lets out a half a moan and half a growl as he watches those blue eyes water the slightest bit. With a grunt, he lets Ringo go, lets his cock fall from those plump lips with a wet _plop_ and a wicked grin spreads over the guitarist’s lips. When Ringo takes him back into his mouth, the guitarist grunts and pushes his length all the way in again, holding it until he knows Ringo’s only a few seconds from protesting, pulling out of his mouth again. They know each other so well, Ringo barely panics anymore, but every now and then, George kinda likes to see those beautiful eyes water and the very earliest hint of panic set in. They both trust each other, though, and know he’d never be in any _real_ danger, but it’s a bit fun to dance along the edge. George knows he needs to calm down for a minute, he wants to draw this out as much as he can (he always tries, but Ringo is just **so** damn sexy it’s always difficult to last _too_ long).

“Let me see you stroke your monster, Ritchie,” he smirks, lying back on the bed, lazily letting his hand twist slowly over his length, humming at the slickness from Ringo’s saliva.

Ringo gives a half smirk and nods again, sitting up tall on his knees, stroking his cock (that’s now fully hard) with a small moan of George’s name.

“Tell me how it feels,” George says, his voice low.

“Unh… it feels… good… real good after not bein’ able to all day. It’d be better if this was yer hand, though, Georgie,” he says with a cheeky wink. He’s pushing it, he knows this.

Fortunately for him, George has trouble resisting Ringo’s charm and he jerks his head so the drummer will come to him. Ringo stands and does just that, right at the edge of the bed. George’s hand wraps around Ringo’s cock and they both let out a moan.

“Kiss me,” George whispers, voice a bit shaky from the firm dominance he spoke from earlier. He can’t help it, Ringo’s such a weakness. The older man presses his lips to the younger’s and for a moment, their lips move together in sweet harmony, sliding against one another with a passion and a lust that speaks the volumes they’re afraid to.

Some time passes with tongues tangled as they breathe each other in, and in a low, husky tone, George finally speaks, lips still moving against Ringo’s, “Get on yer back, darlin’.”

Ringo obeys with a grin, bejeweled fingers wrapping around his cock to stroke it as he watches George get up and climb over him with a wide smile. He bumps his nose against Ringo’s playfully and they both chuckle. The drummer’s hands move now to slide over George’s chest with a sigh, head shaking. “Yer so handsome, Georgie,” he whispers.

“Says you,” he smiles back, kissing him deeply, but only for a moment because then he’s licking and nipping his way down Ringo’s chest. He pauses on each nipple, giving licks, nips, and sucking them into his mouth, teeth and tongue teasing over them. He makes his way down Ringo’s belly, all the way to his cock. His cheek rubs against it first, just before his tongue is on it. His hand gently cups the older man’s balls, tugging slightly as he works his cock down his throat, thankful that he doesn’t have a gag reflex as he moans around Ringo’s dick. He swallows around it, making sure to hum and moan deep and low the way Ringo likes. 

Deep brown eyes to up to see his lover’s face to find Ringo’s head back, eyes closed, mouth open. “Georgie,” he moans out again, encouraging him to move up and down quickly for a moment, but only just so. He’s been thinking about sitting on his lover’s dick all day long, and if he keeps this up, Ringo will blow in no time. He comes off it, hand stroking still, licking and spitting on it, making sure it’s good and dripping wet. George doesn’t tell Ringo, but he’s already stretched himself out while waiting for the drummer.

He lets his cock go, grinning as he immediately straddles him, sinking slowly down on his entire nine inches. Ringo doesn’t move aside from putting his hands on George’s thighs, grunting and moaning as George works him in. When the guitarist finally gets all nine inches inside, he breathes out, grinning down at Ringo. He swats his hands away from his thighs and shakes his head.

“Nope. Not allowed to touch me until I say,” he says firmly. Both of them know it won’t be long before George is giving in, demanding the jeweled touch of the drummer, but both of them pretend like he’s not going to lay a finger on him through this entire thing. Ringo’s bottom lip pouts out and George leans down (with a low moan) to bite at it.

“Fuck, Georgie,” mumbles the older man as the younger starts to rock his hips against him. George’s hands are splayed on the drummer’s chest, and his hips start to move faster. He grabs his own cock, holding it against his belly for a moment, but fuck it feels so much better if he strokes it at the same pace. George feels so overwhelmed with pleasure that it gets harder and harder to move, making him _and Ringo_ whine in complaint.

“Ritchie… oh fuckin’ hell… your turn… you can touch me, please do… and please fuck me, baby…” he sighs in defeat. 

Ringo doesn’t wait for him to ask a second time (normally he might tease him a bit, but not right now-- he wants to get inside of him too badly). The drummer flips the pair over easily (George is so light), not even bothering to pull out. He pushes in slow at first, wanting to hear the younger man whimper for more, which is exactly what he does. Ringo growls a little as his hips roll harder, faster… fuck it feels so good for both of them they can barely breathe and they certainly can’t form words.

The way they move together, the slap of skin that fills the room, it’s all so lovely, adding to the intense physical pleasure the pair gets from being together so intimately. George’s hands run over Ringo’s back and up into his hair, tugging gently, pulling him closer still, nipping at his lips and sucking them into his mouth with a moan. Ringo returns the favor, grinning with a soft chuckle.

“Harder,” George pleas, voice barely above a whisper, lips on Ringo’s neck. Ringo obeys, thrusting in harder, harder, harder, grunting all the while. George’s back arches off the bed, legs tighten around Ringo’s waist, and his body is crying out for more, _more, please, God, yes_.

Ringo’s hand wraps around George’s cock, signaling his lover that he’s close. His face is buried against the younger’s neck, George holding him tightly, fingers tangled in his hair, his other hand clutching at his back. The pleasure is threatening to overtake them both, winding like a spring, low in their bellies. It winds tighter and tighter still, George breathing out Ringo’s name in between whiny moans. Ringo answers with curses muttered under his breath against George’s neck, his sharp jawline, and then his lips. The moment their tongues touch, it’s enough to send them over the edge, together, like they’d recently perfected doing. As Ringo spills into George, George coats both of their bellies with hot white ropes of cum and neither is embarrassed with how loudly they moaned out the other’s name.

Ringo collapses right there on top of George, pulling a laugh from the younger one and he shakes his head, trying to catch his breath. The guitarist reaches for the pack of cigs, taking out two and lighting them both, handing one to Ringo as he rolls off, taking a long drag from the ciggie as George does the same. “Ritchie… you’re fantastic,” he sighs.

“Says you,” Ringo winks, blowing the smoke up towards the ceiling with a sated smile that matches George’s.


End file.
